


Nothing Else Matters

by Pimento



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Destiel - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 09:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6112074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento/pseuds/Pimento
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Metallic - Nothing Else Matters</p><p>“Shotgun picks the music today,” Cas said firmly, passing him a box of cassettes.</p><p>Moss green eyes closed briefly, “Driver shuts his cakehole?”  he finished quizzically.</p><p>“Uhuh,” Cas replied.  “Sam told me that would make you smile.”  He glanced at the tape as it was handed back to him.  “Metallica huh?!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Else Matters

The lights pinged and hummed as the sensors kick-started them progressively along the corridor, revealing the carpeted expanse, dotted with furniture and pot plants in little alcoves, doors to each side. It was nicely furnished, every effort made to make it appear less institutional, but it still smelt of that curious mix of disinfectant and lavender that instantly flagged it as a hospice.

The figure striding along, brown coat billowing behind him, stopped and paused outside the last door on the left. His fingers gripped the round knob and he listened intently. He knew its occupant was awake, and knew that everyone else wasn’t. He had made sure of that. Tonight he needed to be unhindered by explanations and fuss. He noticed with a slight snicker the line of salt at the threshold. Old habits die hard, he thought frowning suddenly at his own words.

He opened the heavy door as quietly as he could, and crept silently into the first room. Moonlight streamed through high windows to his right, highlighting in that peculiar blue relief the simple sitting room furnishings. He sighed and eased himself through a vaulted archway to the door beyond. This place was architecturally beautiful. 

He snuck into the bedroom without making a sound, feeling that to breach the quiet convalescence of the room would be a sacrilege, like swearing aloud in a church.

“What took you, Cas?” the familiar gruff voice asked, sensing him before seeing him as ever.

He approached the bed and dropped himself into the chair beside it. He could not see the man he had travelled so far to visit, the dark shadow of heavy drapes fell across the bed in a stripe. The moonlight was more muted here, not shining directly through the windows, but it still picked out the edges of surfaces and threw shadows as deep indigo pools. 

“I had to make sure everyone was asleep…”

“And that took you an hour?”

“I had to make sure their dreams were…”

“Oh, Cas,”the voice was gently mocking, he heard the pillows shift, sensing rather than seeing the subtle shake of the head. “Your sentimental love of humanity will catch you out one day.”

“But not today,” he murmured. He took the hand that lay on the counterpane in his, it was thin and far too frail, despite its softness. “How are you, my friend?”

“Well the nurse is a dish, but the doctor is stubbornly sticking to brogues rather than cowboy boots, so I guess it’s good and bad as always. How’s my Baby?”

“Fine,” Cas smiled indulgently at the blatant but neat dodging of his question. “That’s why I’m so late, I drove. I thought we could take a spin.”

The bed clothes shifted and the hand was gently withdrawn. The effort to sit up was clearly mammoth as wracking coughs shook the bed. Cas instinctively reached out, but he froze as soft green eyes that had lost none of their strength despite the weakened body caught his gaze.

He watched as the wheezing subsided and firm fingers determinedly pulled the drip from its canula.

“Cheeseburger, pie, no chick flick moments and we’ve talked…damn cough, we’ve talked about this…absolutely no zapping.”

He smiled back at the still goofy grin, convincing no-one himself included that this was OK. That everything was all right. His smile froze and the blue eyes hazed with tears.

“It’s my time, Cas,” the voice was light. “Heaven knows how I only made it this far because of you and Sam, and hell, this isn’t what I’d choose, but that’s kind of the point. Choosing wouldn’t be right. I was never going to be a Grandpa, dying in my bed surrounded by my offspring like Sam. Now let’s go get me my damned cheeseburger, I’m hungry.”

The walk to the Impala was only short, Cas had parked with insouciant regard for traffic laws. The still sensual mouth smirked at the thought of how long it had taken for Cas to get used to breaking even very minor rules once he knew what they were. A shaking hand stroked the sleek black wing, caressed the wing mirror, and he allowed himself to be guided onto the leatherette seat as he could feel his legs weakening from the effort of leaving the mansion.

“Shotgun picks the music today,” Cas said firmly, passing him a box of cassettes.

Moss green eyes closed briefly, “Driver shuts his cakehole?” he finished quizzically.

“Uhuh,” Cas replied. “Sam told me that would make you smile.” He glanced at the tape as it was handed back to him. “Metallica huh?!”  
****************************************************************************************************************************************

Cas pulled the low nose off the road, and steadied the drinks next to him on the seat, as the roughness of the track swung the heavy old car to and fro on her suspension. Eyes closed, head resting back he still wisecracked, “Don’t you be taking my Baby anywhere too rough now, Cas.”

He peered forward through the windscreen from his seat, recognising the scene before him. The horizon shone with the soft light of dawn, hazing into a deep purple sky. The old barn silhouetted against it. So much for no chick flick moments.

Cas eased the car to a halt and rustled through the brown paper bag, handing the paper wrapped burger to his passenger. They ate in companionable silence, until the pie was finished and with one last slurp of the drink, and deeply satisfied rumbling belch, producing a lopsided grin of pride they were finished.

Cas gathered up their rubbish and stuffed it all in the bag, placing it gently into the back footwell, bringing his arm back and resting it along the seat, hand dropping casually onto one thin shoulder. The green eyes turned on him again, unwavering. “You’ll keep your promise?” he whispered. 

Cas nodded, not trusting his voice.

“Salted and burned?!” the voice was urgent, with a hint of panic.

“Salted and burned,” Cas repeated his gravelly tones breaking slightly.

The instrumental guitar twanged softly and his voice still so young sounding began to hum gently along to the song as he had so many times when they were alone, ‘ _So close no matter how far, could be much more from the heart. Forever trusting who we are and nothing else matters.’_

Cas turned back to look at the sun rise, as a head dropped comfortably onto his shoulder, the now bony frame relaxing into him. Cas held him tight, curling his fingers around the hand in his lap, smoothing his thumb across the freckled skin, glad to feel the warmth radiating back. 

_Never opened myself this way. Life is ours we live it our way. All these words I don’t just say, and nothing else matters._

He kissed the still spiky, but now grey hair as the sun rose in the sky, red and gold fusing into an ever brightening blue that echoed the sorrow filled eyes.

_Trust I seek and I find in you, every day for us something new. Open mind for a different view and nothing else matters._

He looked down and noticed a single tear on the pale freckled cheek, below soft green eyes that would never open again.

_Never cared for what they do, never cared for what they know, but I know…and nothing else matters._

 

The flames licked skyward into wisps of smoke. “I thought you’d come,” Cas said without turning his head. “He’s not yours.”

“He’s not anyone’s,” Crowley affirmed softly. “He gets the rarest reward of all. Total peace.”

They stood silently watching the pyre burn to ashes, neither leaving until the last embers dropped to the scorched earth. “Goodbye then Castiel?” Crowley asked, but the angel was already glowing. 

The rusty voice was becoming ethereal, “unless we have reason to meet.” The brilliance of the light burned and Crowley flinched back. Until he was alone, stood next to a patch of charred soil. 

“Bollocks,” he said softly to the sky, wiping his eyes, “he was always yours.” He stooped to pick up a single piece of singed brown fabric, and wrapped it carefully around the rose from his lapel. He buried it in the scorched earth, surprised by his own sentimentality. “Rest well, squirrel.”


End file.
